


Ready to Run

by thearcherballet



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nat and Steve Friendship, Running Away From Emotions, deals with grief; mental health; trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-10 19:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15955691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thearcherballet/pseuds/thearcherballet
Summary: A roadtrip is the last thing Steve Rogers thought would be the relief from his mourning. Armed with a suitcase, too many road maps, and some surprise passengers, Steve must piece his life together before his drive around the 48 states comes to an end. Otherwise, is he really going on a trip to heal his wounds, or is he running to escape his grief?





	1. Chapter One: Day One of Road Trip I

**Author's Note:**

> hi, everyone! i hope you like this first chapter, this is gonna be a long ass fic. i'm gonna need a lot of encouragement and cheerleaders, more than i already have (thank u alicia, kat, kerri, nai, and sasha, for keeping me going) because this is a long ass trip. the basic premise of this story came to me a year ago whil i was still in school and couldn't actually work on this. i did a lot of research and wrote half of a first chapter. left it alone. and i'm revisiting it now! Day One of the Road Trip is divided in three parts, so brace yourselves. part 2 is already written, i just need to revise it once more. i'm writing as i go, this is a WiP so we'll see how it goes. i believe in me, i hope u do too <3 enjoy !  
> (TWs: dissociation, manic impulses, grief, loss, death of a friend -don't kill me-)

Browsing Walmart's road maps section at 2am was really not how he had been planning on beginning his summer vacation. There should be a word for the sense of displacement you feel when walking around the aisles of a superstore at 2am, the fluorescent lights glaring down at you from high above. He'd been staring at the maps for about five minutes like they were things from a different time and didn't belong in an era of Google Maps and Siri.    
Finally, he opened one of the paper maps at random: Iowa. What the hell was so interesting about Iowa? He racked his brain to think of important things that happened in Iowa. Primaries. A lot of corn was brought from there. The list stopped there. He took out his phone and Googled  _ what do you do in iowa? _ Images of museums and a zoo and, oh, yeah, that baseball movie with the baseball field and spirits was based there.    
He slipped the pen he always carried around out of his pocket and started marking down the places relatively in the same place the map showed him. Bucky had always made fun of his little notepad and pen, saying that "there's a note-taking app in your phone, or just text me if it's something you need to remember." Funny, since he was the more forgetful one of the two.    
All of a sudden, he'd taken out as many maps from different states as he could find and was paying for them at the register. The bored clerk yawned as she checked him out and he swiped his card, almost forgetting his receipt if it weren’t for the fact that the cashier waved it in front of his face.    
At home, he pushed what little furniture he had to the walls and opened up the handful of maps on the floor. He pulled up his old laptop and started his search.    
He was a man on a mission, he just didn't know what the endgame was.   


* * *

  
A road trip. Over the 48 conjoined states. 

Really, it was so simple. He remembered a scientist a few years back had devised the best and fastest way to visit all 48 conjoined states. After a quick search online, he found what he was looking for-- more or less. He knew it was his own hyperfocus keeping him running by the way the sun came up as he was searching for materials he might need if he went camping across the nation. 

At nine in the morning, Steve was halfway through his third cup of coffee when his phone buzzed. The vibrations echoed through his empty apartment but it wasn’t as jolting as the regular message alert would’ve been. 

_ Stove, are you working out? _

Steve rolled his eyes and wrote a quick reply to Natasha.  _ Busy today.  _

He hoped a vague answer would get her off his back, but instead she texted back:  _ Cool, make me some coffee instead _ . 

He huffed and set about changing his coffee filter for Natasha. She had a habit of changing his routines so maybe it was time for him to change hers. By the time the coffee maker was sputtering out the coffee, she was already buzzing at the door with insistence. Steve buzzed her in and unlocked the door so she let herself in. When he pulled out the steaming cup of coffee, he set it on the counter, not surprised when he found her already lounging on a stool. 

“You should make a habit of locking the door. Did you even know if it was really me down there?”

Steve pushed the cup her way. “No one else bothers visiting me like you do. And I’m a strong white guy, no one would just come up and attack me.”

Natasha nodded. “That’s true.” She blew on the surface of her mug, steam rising and filling the apartment with the smell of newly brewed coffee. Her eyes took in the state of Steve’s living room and she paused her blowing. “Decide to renovate and skip leg day?”

Steve took his time taking a sip from his own cup before answering. “Something like that.” 

Natasha threw him a look and walked over to the stacks of road maps. “Looks like a trip of some sorts. Are you planning on running away?”

“Just a thought,” he shrugged. 

“Steve--”

“Look, it was something that I thought of and I-- sorta-- got carried away. You know how it is.”

“I really don’t.” Natasha took a sip from her cup, not wincing from the scalding coffee. She actually seemed worried over Steve. “What are you planning?”

“Road trip across the 48 states,” Steve said casually. 

Natasha’s expression shifted to exasperation. “48?! What would you do in 48 states? Like, what would you even do somewhere in like, I don’t know, Wyoming?”

Steve put a hand on his hip. “Yellowstone.”

“Iowa?”

“Butter cow.”

“Delaware?”

“There are parks-- listen, I just feel like I need to do this. For me.” Steve left his mug on the counter and made his way to the sofa, clearing it out so Natasha could sit next to him. 

The sofa shifted as she followed suit. “Is it because of Bucky?”

“I just,” Steve breathed in deeply trying to clear his unraveling mind. “Everywhere I look, there’s Bucky. This whole city’s full of memories and feelings and him. I feel like I’m just swimming through an ocean of him and the riptide’s about to take me down.”

Steve hung his head as the weight of his emotions overtook his body. His chest felt constricted as he held back the sadness that’d been harvesting inside. He sensed the lack of sleep the night before catching up to him. He was so tired. Natasha took his hand and squeezed it, pulling him out of his stupor. 

“I’ll go with you.”

Steve shook his head and looked at her; she was actually smiling. 

“Who knows? Could be fun to visit-- uh, West Virginia.”

“We’re not going to Hawai’i, just so you know,” he said, not really knowing why he’d automatically accepted the fact that she was going.

“Not interested in that. Just wanna complain in the car the whole time and steal all your snacks.”

Steve actually huffed a laugh and she nudged him. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to do this alone. 

* * *

 

##  **Day One of Road Trip**

Steve had gotten adept at taking the Metro around D.C. which only exacerbated his anxiety as he drove around the city. He wasn’t born and bred there, only having lived there for the past year, but even before that he’d lived in Brooklyn, almost exclusively using the subway his entire life. 

It wasn’t until he was at the Ronald Reagan International airport picking up an economic rental car for little more than a month that he realized just how little practice he had driving an actual car. He’d been taught at boot camp, actually, Bucky laughing the entire time as Steve put the car in Drive when trying to Reverse and almost took out their commander. 

Steve gripped the wheel of the rental, not really digging the faint smell of cigarettes of the black Ford Fiesta that had clear signage to not smoke in it. He inhaled and exhaled before putting the car on Drive and zooming past the rental car clerk who’d handed him his keys.

Driving back to his place, he wondered if Natasha would actually show up. There wasn’t much mental space for Steve to decide whether or not he felt comfortable with Natasha on board for the trip. He didn’t even mention it to her during the week as he made preparations with the landlord and scouring the city for supplies. 

She still appeared at his apartment the day he’d set to leave with camping gear, a suitcase, a backpack, and a menacing grin. 

Steve was dragging his own backpacker’s pack to the door and laughed. “Did you at least bring snacks for the road?” 

“There will be lots of trail mix as long as you’re paying for meals,” Natasha retorted, flashing him her backpack full of snacks. 

She helped him with the luggage all the way to the parking garage. Steve unlocked the rented Ford Fiesta and they stowed their packs away. 

Steve pursed his lips and climbed into the driver’s seat. The Fiesta swayed as Natasha followed suit in the passenger seat. “Why do I get the feeling I’m getting the rotten end of a stick?” he said.

Natasha smiled at him like a cat who’s got a mouse cornered. “A stick?”

Steve nodded. “Don’t know what kind of stick yet.”

She laughed. “That’s because you are. Where do we start?”

* * *

 

The first stop was less than an hour away from Steve’s house. The drive to Mount Vernon was quite smooth. Steve had memorized the directions to their first stop, after much obsessing over them.

“So, what are the ground rules?” Natasha said as they turned onto the main expressway. 

“Rules?”

“Yeah, you surely have some rules for the trip. You’re so uptight.”

Steve laughed. “First, I am not that uptight. Second,” he said while shaking his head, “we’re going to all 48 contiguous U.S. states. I took the idea from this guy who calculated the fastest route to do so, and it said it took just over nine days to do so, non-stop. We obviously need to stop, because we’re human, so according to my calculations it should be around 35 days. Maybe less if we don’t fuck around.”

Natasha nodded. “Makes sense. We need something to evidence the fact that we went to all the places. Or, at least, that you did.”

“I’ll get a postcard for every stop,” Steve said.

“And I’ll be the official documenter/DJ for the trip. Get ready for my fantastic playlists.”

The rest of the way was mostly spent trying to connect Natasha’s phone to the car’s Bluetooth and debating if it was best to play Carly Rae Jepsen’s entire discography first or Beyonce’s Lemonade. By the time they’d arrived to their destination, they’d only listened up to Hold Up.

There was a lot parking space, which was surprising, seeing as it was ten in the morning on a Wednesday in mid-July. Steve thought there would be more tourist groups around, but there wasn’t much movement yet. He turned off the ignition and looked at Natasha. She was waiting for him to exit, almost expecting him to stay inside the car and go back home. 

Instead, he opened the door and put the keys in his front jeans pocket. Natasha followed suit, locking the car from her door.

“So,” she said as they walked towards the entrance, “are you excited?”

He didn’t know if excited was the right word. “Am I excited to step foot in one of our founding fathers’ plantation as the first stop of the trip? Not sure if I’m excited about that.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Not what I meant, but that’s the spirit! Can’t wait for the rest of this trip!” she said with false joy. 

He jostled her arm. “Shut up.”

“C’mon, let’s cross Virginia officially off our list.”

The lady selling the general admission tickets was amiable if not bizarre, in the way she offered the free Distillery tour and the tour about the over 300 slaves that lived in the plantation during the Washingtons’ tenure there, all in the same breath.  

“Is there a way to just go to the gift shop instead?” Natasha said, her teeth all showing when she smiled at the lady. 

The lady’s own smile wobbled.

Steve elbowed Natasha. He had a feeling he’d be doing that a lot. “She’s joking. But  _ is there _ a way to get to the shops, I think we’re lost.”

“Sure, just go out the way you came in and keep going right until you get to the building with the shops and food court.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, steering Natasha away by the shoulders.

“Rude,” Natasha said when they were out of earshot. “She didn’t even get to tell us to have a nice day.”

“I don’t think you deserved it. Let’s get the card and get out.”   
“Okay, but we’re going to Waffle House when we’re done.”

“Whatever.”


	2. Chapter 2: Day One of Road Trip II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha wants waffles. A weird sort-of meet cute. Trauma's bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! i'm trying to space these out so that i have the next chapter in the works by the time i post this one (so i've finished drafting chapter 3 when i post chapter 2, sort of like holding a chapter hostage so i can hold myself accountable). thank you to everyone who's encouraged me and commented on the first chapter! you're the best and i love you all. this chapter is dialogue heavy, but i think it's fun that way.   
> content/trigger warnings: panic attack, heavy dissociation, comments about food, secondhand anxiety/uncomfortable moment, impulse decisions  
> enjoy!

The closest Waffle House to Mount Vernon was over a half hour away, but not far off enough out of the way that Steve could justify saying no to Natasha. It was, however, far too close to Quantico for his liking. He didn’t express that to Natasha, though, out of fear of being mocked for his paranoia.

Besides, Natasha looked so at ease. It was like she was meant for long distance road trips, with her yoga pants and crop top. Steve knew he looked like a dad with his faded blue jeans and plain t-shirt and white sneakers. In fact, Natasha had already laid into him while searching for the postcards.

_ (“Hi, this is my dad, we’re a bit lost and he needs to find a postcard to send his military buddies,” she said with a perfect Texan accent. _

_ “He looks far too young to be your father,” the old white lady at the counter had said to Nat while giggling.” _

_ “I moisturize,” Steve had said dryly before the lady directed them toward the row of postcards. _

_ “Don’t call me dad, ever again,” Steve hissed at Natasha. _

_ “Don’t wear a fanny pack when we’re together, then.” _

_ “Fine.”) _

He’d ditched the fanny pack in favor of a money clip in his front pocket. 

Natasha had attempted to look up the directions to the Waffle House but Steve stopped her. “New rule, we’re not using the internet to look up directions.”

She laughed until she saw his serious look. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“It’s why I have the maps.”

“I thought they were for like, in case of emergency.”

“No.”

“This is ridiculous,” Natasha said, actually sounding exasperated.

“Why? People did road trips like this all the time.”

“How would that map know if there was a road closure, or if there’s a traffic jam we need to avoid,” she said logically.

“I thought about that. And I don’t mind. Unless there’s an absolute emergency, like the car’s running out of gas or something and we’re in the middle of a traffic jam, we’ll MapQuest it.”

“MAPQUEST?!”

“I’m kidding! I know about Google Maps,” Steve laughed. “We’ll use that.”

“Let me out right here,” Natasha murmured as they rolled through I-95. 

“You can still go back,” he tried.

“No, you need a friend around to tell you to your face you’re being ridiculous.”

“All right,” Steve said, letting the word friend warm his insides.

* * *

The small parking lot to Waffle House was almost full for it to be almost midday. 

“Don’t order something too heavy,” Steve said.

Natasha tilted her head. “Are you trying to tell me what to eat?”

“I’m not. It’s just advice because we still have to drive to North Carolina.”

Natasha got out of the car and slammed the door. Steve leaned his head against the seat’s headrest and got out. 

“Look, I’m just saying--” but Natasha was already at the door to the restaurant. 

Steve quickly locked the doors and followed her in. 

So quickly that he ran into someone at the door. Quite literally. Full headbutts. 

“Oh God, I am so sorry,” Steve immediately said. “Are you okay?”

The man in front of his groaned and took his hands off his face, his eyes lighting up with recognition. “Rogers!”   
Steve blinked and then realized who it was that he’d run into. “Sam Wilson! Funny to run into you,” Steve said. 

“Run into? You almost gave me a concussion,” Sam said with a smile on his face. “What, do you work out your forehead too?”

“Only on Mondays,” Steve said easily.

“What did I miss?” Natasha interjected, suddenly next to Steve.

Sam spoke up before Steve could muster words and get his brain to work properly. “Your man here is like a human barricade and hit me in the face when I was just trying to get out.”

“It was an accident, I’m really sorry,” Steve repeated. “Natasha, this is Sam Wilson. He goes to the same gym I do.”

“Really? I’ve never seen you there when I’ve gone with Steve. What a great coincidence,” she said, with fake disbelief. She turned to Steve. “I got us a table, so why doesn’t your friend join us?”

“Yeah, Sam, why don’t you join me-- us?”

“Um,” he said mulling it over for a second, “I was just on my way out, but I could stay for a cup of coffee,” Sam said, his hands in his pockets.

They all walked together to the table, Natasha sliding into the booth first so she was sitting by the window. Steve sat next to her despite the daggers shooting out of her eyes. Sam sat opposite both of them, both hands knotted together on top of the table. 

“So,” Natasha started, “do you live over here and commute to the gym near Steve, or what?”

“I live in D.C, but I commute to Quantico a lot.”

Steve straightened. “Do you work at Quantico?”

“Sort of,” Sam said, placing his hands flat on the table. “I work with retired vets and ex-FBIs who have unresolved traumas. I was just done with a meeting here.”

“You meet in a Waffle House fifteen minutes away from FBI HQ?” Natasha asked.

Sam shrugged. “They feel more comfortable when they’re outside of Quantico jurisdiction and so do I. I sometimes get called in to help with the psychological training of new recruits at Quantico.”

“You’re a therapist,” Steve declared.

“In the loosest sense of the word, yes.”

The waitress came up to them, menus in hand. “Darlings, welcome. Sammy, I thought you were leaving. Are these some more of your friends?”

“They’re friends but not the kind I bring here,” Sam replied.

“Well, treat them well. I don’t like it when your friends start crying.”

“We’re not gonna cry, promise,” Natasha said winking at the waitress.

“Then, here you go,” the waitress said, handing them the menu. “Want some coffee, darlings?”

“One for me and Sam, please,” Steve said. 

“One for me too,” Natasha added. Barely having looked at the menu, she said: “I’d also love some chocolate chip waffles with shredded hashbrowns.”

“Oh, great. Do you need some time to decide what you want, dear?” the waitress asked Steve.

“Just a few minutes,” Steve said. 

“Thank you, Rhonda,” Sam said with a kind smile. 

Rhonda promised to come back with their coffee in a second and Steve turned to the menu to study it. “Did you study the menu beforehand or just picked the first thing you saw?” he asked Natasha without looking at her. 

“I know what I want, and it’s on the restaurant’s name.”

Steve decided on two scrambled eggs and told Rhonda as much when she came back with the coffee pot. Natasha started drinking it almost immediately, staring at the two of them in defiance. Steve poured two packets of sugar and a splash of milk, while Sam made his coffee almost white with the amount of milk he poured into it.

They all sat there in casual silence, though Sam would fidget his hands every once in a while, hiding it by taking a sip from his cup. 

“So,” Sam said to break the silence. “What are you two doing all the way over here?”

Steve and Natasha looked at each other. Natasha lifted an eyebrow at him.

“We’re on a road trip,” Steve explained.

Sam looked confused. “To… Quantico?”

“No, we just started in Virginia. We went to Mount Vernon first. We’ll be visiting all 48 contiguous states.”

“We’re going to North Carolina next.”

Sam nodded in understanding. “Cool. I’ve never really gone on a road trip.”

“Too bad you’re not going on this one. It’s been so fun so far,” Natasha said sarcastically.

This time they all sat in the awkward silence that followed until Rhonda brought them their food. 

“Y’know, Steve’s a vet too,” Natasha said between bites of waffle.

“That was smooth,” Steve replied while adding salt and pepper to his eggs.

“I didn’t know you were a vet,” Sam said, stroking his chin. “It explains a lot.”

Steve didn’t encourage him to expand on this comment. He knew exactly what Sam meant.

It hadn’t been the first time Sam had helped Steve spotting at the bench press. It was probably the second or third time, but it had been about two months back. 

Steve hadn’t gotten much sleep the day before, and Natasha had ditched him already at the gym. She usually left him to his own devices, but that day Steve felt as if he were drowning. After running on the treadmill, he automatically went for the bench press at the same time Sam had. He barely registered the greeting Sam gave him, just blindly putting weights on to the bar.

When he went to press, the weights were so heavy they immediately fell on his chest. And though Sam quickly picked them off his chest, Steve was still having trouble breathing. The edges of his vision started getting blurrier by the second. Sam helped him up and directed him to the outside of the gym where there were benches to sit in.

It was a little bit embarrassing to experience your first panic attack in front of a hot dude at a packed gym. 

Sam kept quiet and rubbed his back. Slowly but surely, Steve regained his vision. The sun was out, people were milling about on the streets minding their own business. And Sam was there. After a while, and when Steve had calmed down a bit, Sam gently prodded and asked him if it had been his first panic attack. 

Steve admitted to it being his first panic attack, but that it had been a long time coming. He didn’t go further than that. Sam understood, though. 

“Well, I know that you don’t really know me, but if you need anything I’m here,” he’d simply said back then. They didn’t exchange numbers. 

Yet, every time Steve went to the gym after that, Sam was there, trailing behind him. It felt nice. They talked casually, but pretended like Steve’s episode was a one-off.

And now they were sitting across from each other at a Waffle House, probably wondering how the hell they ended up there.

Natasha and Steve finished their food and paid for everything, leaving a generous tip for Rhonda. 

The three of them walked toward the parking lot. Sam noted they’d parked right next to his car.

Natasha said goodbye to Sam, taking Steve’s keys out of his hands so she could warm up the car. Steve faced Sam, feeling so many words at the tip of his tongue.

But all he could say was: “I’m so sorry.”

Sam looked at him as if he’d grown a second head or two. “What for?”

Steve was about to say something, but his reply was cut short by the engine to the Ford Fiesta stalling. Natasha got out of the car. “I didn’t do it.”

Steve looked back at Sam and he was already going to the front of the Fiesta to open the hood.

He adjusted the battery cables and called for Natasha to turn over the key.

This couldn’t really be happening. They were still near D.C. and their car wasn’t working. Steve stood next to Sam, just observing what he did. 

“I’m gonna jump the car, see if it helps,” Sam declared.

Steve nodded as Sam went to his black sedan and got jumper cables out of the trunk. He connected both cars and started his engine. Natasha started the car, this time successfully. She whooped from the passenger seat, and Steve grinned. 

Sam took out the jumper cables, letting them rest on the ground. “Y’all should drive around for a few minutes to let it recharge.”

“Thanks, I owe you one,” Steve said.

Sam brushed it off with a smile. He took out the bag where he’d kept the cables and put them inside, offering them to Steve. “You probably have roadside assistance, but you can’t go on a country-wide road trip without jumper cables.”

Steve was about to say no, but Sam gave him a look that arguing against it was out of the question. He grabbed the bag, thankful to have something in his hands.

And Steve didn’t know if it was out of the gratitude of having him there two months ago at the bench press of a crummy gym, some sort of apology for the way they kept clashing toward each other, or some other fucked up impulse he had at the moment, but the words that came out of his mouth then had nothing to do with the conversation they were having: “You should come with us.” 

Sam stood stock still, processing the words that Steve hadn’t even processed. When Steve finally realized what he’d said, he went for a joking grin. 

“Are you joking?” Sam ventured, not really knowing what to say.

“I mean,” Steve stammered, “if you want, you can come with. You don’t have to.”

Steve was trying to take back the words he’d blurted out, and Sam nodded slowly. 

“You guys need to drive this car around for at least fifteen minutes,” Sam said. Steve deflated at the thought that this was just another thing that they were gonna keep between them. 

Steve was about to apologize and say goodbye when Sam spoke up. “You can follow me to my house and I’ll get my stuff.”

Sam’s arms were crossed against his chest, like he was challenging Steve to change his mind. But Steve’s body reacted before his brain did, as a giant grin spread across his face. 

Steve slapped Sam’s shoulder and Sam smiled too. He went around to the driver’s side, jumping into the car. 

“Did you just invite him to the trip?” Natasha asked.

“Yep.”

“Of course you did,” Natasha simply said, and that was that.

They followed him to the house, which was only a little bit out of the way, but Steve didn’t actually care. 

The car didn’t stall, and Sam came out of his house with a duffel bag and a backpack. He dumped them in the trunk of the Fiesta, and got into the backseat. He sighed as Steve and Natasha both turned to stare, to check if he was actually there.

“Am I doing something really stupid?” Sam carefully said.

Steve and Natasha looked at each other. “Yes,” they said simultaneously.

“As long as I don’t get murdered at the hands of two white folks, I think that’s fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed this chapter! consider leaving a comment on your thoughts or reaching out to me on tumblr @thearcherballet <3


	3. Chapter 3: Day One Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a trip to the wright brothers' memorial with sam and nat... some awkward moments... steve is a gd mess but what's new?  
> tw: anxiety, ptsd, talking about therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! hope everyone's doing well. as you can see, i'm spacing these out so they come out once a week on sunday nights because that's the hell schedule i've created. on this chapter they go to north carolina and drive back to virginia, but only bc it's the only logical way they can go through west virginia in this trip. hope you enjoy and comment, share, etc.

It was a four hour drive from Virginia to their new stop: North Carolina. The website Steve had visited had suggested the Wright Brothers’ Memorial, and he had no qualms toward that suggestion so on they went.

Natasha pointed out the signage that announced their passing the imaginary border between Virginia and North Carolina. Steve’s shoulders visibly relaxed when she said so. He was _doing this_ and he wasn’t doing it alone.

Sam was pretty much quiet in the backseat the entire time, though he would pipe up if talked at.

Steve only stopped for a bathroom break along the way, consulting the maps he’d painstakingly highlighted and marked. Natasha would read the map and tell Steve when he needed to change roads.

She also only played Toto’s Africa for at least fifteen minutes until Sam reached forward and turned off the radio. After that, Natasha settled on some obscure Broadway musical recording that no one but her knew the words to.

As they drove along, the hills and valleys of Virginia started turning into sloping fields, and as they went into Kill Devil Hills, the Atlantic Ocean appeared into view. Though Steve was trying to pay attention to the road, he couldn’t remiss the fact that the ocean looked as clear and blue as the bright summer sky.

Three hours after leaving Virginia, they arrived at the Wright Brothers’ Memorial. Steve’s hands and ankles were beginning to cramp and he rolled his wrists as they parked.

Natasha went off on her own as soon as they parked with the excuse of wanting to find a bathroom. Steve and Sam walked in silence to the Visitor Center, the sun beating down on them already.

Steve was browsing through the books and cards when Sam finally spoke up.

“So,” he said casually as he looked through a book about how the Wright Brothers made their aircrafts, “you’re just doing this for the postcards, or what?”

Steve smiled. “No, this is just evidence. I want to showcase the fact that I actually did this. It’s a visual way to say I committed to finishing something.”

“Oh, good, because I thought you were just gonna bypass the actual monuments.”

“No, I just wanted to do this first in case they closed the shop earlier than the actual park.”

“Okay,” Sam said and that was that. There was no judgement over Steve’s thought process, just wanted to make sense of it. For that, Steve was grateful.

He felt a vibration in his pocket, and took his phone out to find a text from Natasha.

_Stove, this monument is big._

Sam was right next to him and tried to hide a snort of laughter.

“Were you eavesdropping my texts?” Steve said mildly accusing.

“I’m right next to you, Stove,” he protested with a laugh.

Steve paid for his card while Sam got a little airplane magnet.

All in all, the park was impressive. It had the monument, which was indeed big, as Natasha had said. You could observe the North Carolina coast from the hill upon which the monument sat on. As you went down the hill, there was the whole air strip where the Wrights had attempted their first flights with markers throughout to show how far they’d traveled for each flight.

They walked through the strip passing by people laid out in blankets, though the people closest to the monument had a better vantage point of the approaching sunset.

“For $7 you’d think that they’d have some sort of attraction besides this, the monument, and the sculpture,” Natasha remarked as they passed a group of children who were chasing each other.

“Like a carousel or something?” Sam said.

“Yeah, or like the One Fish, Two Fish ride that goes up and down,” Natasha said. “Except instead of fish, they’d be little planes.”

“You should suggest that to the National Parks Service,” Steve said, not taking his eyes off the two kids who were running around them.

One of them, with short dark hair, squealed with laughter as the other, with shaggy blonde hair tackled him to the ground. The children rolled around, tumbling down hill as they did.

He didn’t realize he’d been squeezing his plastic water bottle so hard it was almost doubled over until he found Sam and Natasha staring at him. He continued walking to some buildings that had been reconstructed to look like the Wright Brothers’ workshop from 1903, throwing away the bottle in a trash can as he did.

His heart was beating wildly. How was it that he’d fled the city to escape his feelings and two children playing around had set him on edge? He stared at the building, wishing for it to send him some sign or to tell him how to stop from feeling that way.

Sam was next to him again, staring up at the same place he was. “Are you trying to figure out if aliens told the Wright brothers how to create a plane? Because I know for a fact that Da Vinci had already drawn up sketches of a self-piloted aircraft a few hundred years before they did. But maybe the aliens did help Da Vinci.”

“No, though you make some good points,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “Where’s Natasha?”

“I asked her where she was going and she said ‘I don’t need to tell you where I’m going,’” Sam shrugged before entering the building. Steve followed him in.

The workshop doubled as a barrack of sorts, with two beds practically hanging from the ceiling, and as a maintenance room. It was a detailed reconstruction with plans and materials that the brothers would’ve used when building their planes.

“The fact that there was once a time when we didn’t have airplanes astounds me,” Sam stated, mouth slightly agape as he ventured farther into the building with Steve at his heels.

“You like flying?” Steve asked softly. It felt like he was entering a sanctuary and he needed to be respectful, at least in Sam’s presence.

Sam’s eyes roved the room, drinking in the sketches and pictures. “I loved it,” Sam said. “I used to do pararescue when I went on tour. Used to get dropped right at the epicenter of wherever it was getting too hot and get people out. Loved being on planes for that reason.”

“The Wright Brothers probably didn’t think people would be getting on planes to drop out of them.”

Sam hummed as he studied every inch of the reconstructed shack. “I don’t think I knew what I was getting into when I said yes to going into pararescue. I don’t think many people know what they’re really getting into when they join the army. But one thing’s for sure,” he said, finally turning toward Steve, “no one comes back the same way.”

Steve avoided Sam’s gaze, pretending to study the room even more.

“Listen,” Sam sighed, “I’m not here as a therapist, or even to absolve you of sin like a priest. I think you’re a nice guy. You don’t have to tell me what’s up, but I want you to. I think you’ll find it helpful to talk through whatever’s bothering you. But the fact is you’re stuck with me, and I have my own baggage to deal with. You don’t have to tell me now, or five states away from here, but I’m here for you, as a friend, even if you might not see it that way,” he finished earnestly.

Steve probably looked like a fish with the way he kept opening his mouth and closing it. When he finally managed to say something, it came out strangled, like it had gone to war itself beforehand. “I wish I could tell you what’s wrong,” Steve said thinking through the jumble in his head. “But right now I don’t know how to talk about it. I will, though; eventually. I feel like I can trust you; otherwise I wouldn’t have invited you to come along this fucked up trip. But thank you for saying that,”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. No rush. I don’t think we’re at the point of having late night heart to hearts. But we’ll get there. I can feel it,” he said with a smile.

Steve scoffed in relief and Sam patted his shoulder and nudged him out of the building.

“Let’s go find that slippery redhead,” Sam said.

“She’s probably in a dark corner eating trail mix,” Steve said.

“I heard that,” Natasha said, leaning back by the exit to the building as she ate trail mix.

Sam jumped, looking at Steve with a quirked eyebrow. “Is she for real?”

Steve shrugged and stole an M&M from Natasha’s mix.

* * *

They considered perhaps watching the sunset up by the monument, but then Steve reasoned that they’d have plenty of sunsets along the way and no one argued against it.

They stopped once on their way to West Virginia at a fast food chain, going to the bathroom and eating fast so they could continue on. Natasha kept Steve awake as they drove along by blasting some strange Russian rap group through the speakers until they got to Richmond where they’d stay the night.

Natasha had asked if it wasn’t easier to go directly to South Carolina and then go to West Virginia when they came back around the area. Steve explained that the West virginia stop was right near the Virginia border, therefore farther away when they’d come back around.

It was around nine at night when they got to the Super 8 that Steve had reserved the week before. So when the bored receptionist handed him the key he didn’t really think much about it, just giving him his credit card and signing whatever he had in front of him.

They got to the non-smoking room with their backpacks in hand to find a long King-Sized bed. Natasha turned to Steve with the same murderous smile she’d given him. “Steven. Grant. Rogers.”

“Oh, God,” Steve said, covering his face. “Let me see if I can fix this, I’ll go down and see if they have a free double room.”

“Steve, it’s fine, I can sleep on the floor. You two can sleep on the bed,” Sam said shifting his feet.

“No,” Steve almost yelled, “I’ll fix this.” He walked back down to the receptionist’s desk.

The receptionist listened to Steve’s nervous ramble about the rooms with slowly blinking eyes. He reached out his hand to Steve when he finished, and said: “It’ll be $60 more.”

Steve almost balked at it, but paid it, just to put everyone at ease on their first night.

He went back to the room, knocking on the door. Sam opened the door with an amused look on his face. “Natasha’s taken over the bed already.”

“I got a double, she can stay here.”

Sam picked up his bag and Steve’s from the floor, handing Steve his bag back. They walked two doors down, opening the door to a double. Sam made his way to the bed nearest to the window and Steve to the other one.

They silently went through their nightly routines. By the time Steve came out of the shower, Sam was already sleeping with his back to Steve, an arm slung over his face. Steve turned off the lights in the room, leaving the bathroom door slightly open so a crack of light came through it. He put an alarm for six in the morning, hoping it would be enough sleep.

Steve slid into bed, and for the first time in about two weeks, sleep came to him fast and easy like a sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what did you think? leave a comment on what your favorite line this chapter was. 
> 
> next up: west virginia and south carolina!

**Author's Note:**

> soooo what did you think? let me know on here or my blog @thearcherballet <3


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